


A Man Like You

by xammx



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Spencer Reid, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Collars, Consensual Kink, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Spencer Reid, Dominant, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Forced Orgasm, Gun Violence, Jumps around the timeline of your relationship, Love, Love Confessions, Master/Pet, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Linear Narrative, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Relationship(s), Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Spencer Reid Angst, Submissive Reader, collared, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xammx/pseuds/xammx
Summary: “Look at me.”Your stomach dropped at the tone in Spencer’s voice. You immediately obeyed his command.“Good girl. Now, try that again."~You and Spencer begin a kink relationship: let there be loads of smut, some angst, puddles of love and a happy ending of course.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89





	1. Behavioral Analysis

**Author's Note:**

> Hi dear friends. this chapter starts off in the middle of our readers relationship with Spencer, as it was originally intended to be a one shot but now I'm debating turning it into a multi-chapter fic. let me know your thoughts... and you know the drill: kudos if you like it, comment if you love!
> 
> xx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer chastises you, buys you a painting and then makes you cum five times for being bratty...pretty much

_PRESENT DAY - OCTOBER_

* * *

“Is there any particular reason you’ve chosen to behave the way you have been all evening?”

You didn’t dare meet his eyes, knowing damn well the look in them could cut you like a knife. Instead, you lifted your champagne flute to your painted lips and took a welcome sip. Spencer stood tall beside you, watching your every move as he patiently waited for your response. You didn’t turn your head to look at him when you finally spoke.

“No reason in particular.” You said softly, a tiny smile playing at your mouth. 

You continued to admire the art in front of you. It was an oil painting of a beautiful woman kneeling on the floor with her hands joined in her lap, her naked body exposed as she sat completely surrounded by red and black flower petals. It was breathtaking and deeply erotic. 

“No?” Spencer countered, his voice stern. He was extremely good at being subtle and you doubted anyone in the room could guess the subject of your conversation just by glancing at you two. Your body language was incredibly relaxed. You were both in your element. 

“No.” You replied simply. You licked your lips before continuing. “I’m simply trying to enjoy the art like everyone else.” 

“Look at me.”

Your stomach dropped at the tone in Spencer’s voice. You immediately obeyed his command.

“Good girl. Now, try that again.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. You took another sip of your champagne, drinking it slower as you tried to regain your composure.

“I’m not behaving any differently tonight than I usually do.”

“Bullshit.” Spencer said unblinkingly, his hands rested in his pant pockets as he stood next to you. “Do you think I like it when you’re a brat?”

Chewing the inside of your lip, you placed the empty champagne flute on a passing waiters tray, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak. 

“No.” You said.

Deep down you knew the answer was actually _yes_ , but you decided it was best not to push his buttons any further. He lifted a quizzical brow.

“No, what?”

You cleared your throat. “No, _sir._ ”

Spencer turned towards the painting, leaning in closer to inspect it. You took his silence as your cue to continue. 

“When we arrived at the gallery this evening, I let go of your hand. That's something I was told not to do. I didn’t ask your permission to have a drink, let alone two. And I purposely flirted with the wait staff who brought me the champagne because I knew it would bother you. To answer your question, no. I don’t think you like the way I’m acting.” 

The heat rose instantly in your cheeks as you listed every disobedient action you performed that evening. In the moment it seemed fun, like a game, but now the realization had stepped in. 

“Do you like this painting?” Spencer asked.

You nodded. “Um, yes. I do. I love it, actually. It’s beautiful.” 

You were confused by his sudden switch in mood, watching as he turned and beckoned a nearby gallery attendant to approach. The attendant, an older, red-headed woman, sauntered over to you and Spencer. 

Spencer gestured to the artwork. “How much is this one?” 

“Lei Appartiene A Me is selling for $15,100,00, sir.”

Without a beat, Spencer answered the woman.

“Good. I’ll take it.”

You stifled a gasp. _Fifteen thousand fucking dollars?_

“Perfect. I will need to get your information at the front desk, sir.” 

You waited till the redhead had left you both alone again before you grabbed Spencer’s hand in shock.

“Are you out of your mind?” You whisper-yelled, glancing around the room anxiously to ensure no one had heard you. “You realize you just spent fifteen thousand bucks on a painting?”

“I’m assuming that question is rhetorical.” Spencer smirked, giving your hand a squeeze. “You said you liked it. Don't you?”

“I love it but...I’m confused. I disobey you all evening, act like a total brat, flirt with another man, I don’t even apologize for my actions...and you buy me a fifteen thousand dollar painting?”

As calmly as ever, Spencer leaned forward and cupped your cheek in his hand, bringing his lips close to your ear, hiding his face from view. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears and you wondered if he could hear it. 

“I bought it because you deserve it - when you _aren’t_ misbehaving. But, since you decided to disobey me all evening... I plan on paying for that painting, taking you home, tying your hands to the bed frame, gagging your mouth with the panties you’re currently wearing and then forcing a vibrator on you until you cum so many times you see fifteen thousand stars.” 

Holy _fuck._

You struggled to pick your jaw up off the floor. Heat pooled in a completely different place now, away from your face. It suddenly became impossible to maintain your composure in public. You were equal parts nervous and excited for what was to come. 

Spencer had left you to sign the paperwork needed to finalize his purchase. You remained standing in the same position, lost for words. As much as you did receive pleasure when acting like a brat, you always forgot how intense the surrender was when Spencer took his control back. You couldn't believe that the shy, timid man you had met just months ago was now your intimidating, powerful dominant. 

He wasn’t away from you for very long, returning with the jacket you had left with coat-check earlier that evening. He helped you into it, then escorted you out of the gallery and into the parking lot. 

The drive back to Spencer’s apartment was done in silence for the most part, except for the sound of James Taylor singing on the radio at low volume. Your heartbeat was doing a strange pitter-patter, and you realized you were excited. Looking forward to your punishment.

“You haven’t stopped playing with your hands since we left the gallery.” Spencer said in his usual matter of fact tone. You turned your head, waiting.

“You may speak freely.” He replied when he saw your look.

“Are you mad at me?” Your brat persona had ultimately faded, and now you worried if you had crossed one two many lines. 

“No.” He said, his eyes on the road. “But I’m not happy with your deliberate need to disobey me in public.”

He pulled into his apartment complex and parked before turning to you. 

“Bratty subs get taught lessons.”

* * *

“What’s your nonverbal safeword?” Spencer quizzed you, finishing his knot as he secured your wrists together and bound you to the headboard. You pulled gently at the restraint, testing it. It was tight. 

“Two taps on the headboard for caution, three taps for ultimate stop.” You recited back to him, your naked body on display for him now that he had removed your underwear last. 

“Good girl.” 

You felt the bed dip slightly as Spencer knelt onto the mattress, now hovering over you. He bunched your panties into a small ball and lifted it to your mouth. 

“Open.”

You did as you were told. He placed the ball in your mouth, stifling you, and you bit down on it in return. He remained clothed, enjoying the contrast of having your body completely undressed and exposed to him. Moving his hands towards your ankles he separated your slightly bent legs, gazing upon you. 

“Beautiful.” He mused.

He left the bed for just a moment, retrieving a vibrating wand from the cherry wood armoire on the opposite side of the room. You gulped eagerly. Spencer had yet to use an electric toy on you since your 'relationship' began.

He turned it on and without giving you a moment to prepare, immediately placed the head of it against your clit. Your body instantly reacted. 

_Fuck!_ It was stronger than you anticipated.

You groaned, your eyelids half hooded as your body quickly became flooded with the sensation. You could see Spencer’s eyes darken as he watched you. Your groans quickly escalated into moans, muffled by the sound of your panties. You tugged at your wrists, arching your back as your orgasm drew closer and closer. Spencer moved the wand up just slightly, finding one perfectly sweet spot that was answered with a loud gasp from your throat, and there he held the vibrator firmly. Your body began to tighten, your toes curling, your breath caught.

You were about to come. 

“One.” Spencer said as if on cue, right as your first orgasm rushed you like a hurricane. 

You shut your eyes and tossed your head back into the pillow, riding through the climax fiercely. It was intense, almost _too_ much in the moment, but it was everything you needed after your night of bratty behavior. Any attitude you had was now stripped away and you were left a moaning, writhing, desperate, submissive mess. You felt the vibrations slow as you finished coming, your thighs shaking as Spencer dialed the intensity of the wand down just two levels. 

“You’re going to give me four more of those.” 

You squeaked. 

_FOUR?_

You were no stranger to multiple orgasms, but after the one you just experienced, you doubted multiple would be possible. Your body was buzzing and you did your best to steady your breathing. Spencer, sensing you were trying to calm your breath, devilishly switched the intensity of the vibrations back up to its higher setting, releasing another groan from your throat. He used his free hand to part your thighs, sliding two of his fingers inside you. You groaned at the dual sensation of his fingers and the buzzing of the toy on your clit. 

“Look at you,” Spencer scoffed, a strand of his shaggy hair falling in his eyes, “completely at my mercy.”

You whined in response. You were close again, brought by Spencer’s fingers twisting and curling inside you in a beckoning motion. He massaged your g-spot, edging you closer to your second orgasm. 

“Perhaps the next time I take you out to an event, you’ll reconsider if you want to act like a fucking brat.” 

Arching your back even more, your eyes widened when you felt it. 

_Oh fuck._

_Fuck. Fuck_ . _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Spencer almost laughed at the sight of you. 

“Two.” 

You cried out, pulling against your restraints and biting down on your panties as your body convulsed. You were already aching all over and spent, but determined to reach five orgasms. You would never admit to Spencer that you were stubborn, even though he knew. He knew you wouldn’t tap out. He knew that despite the punishments, you would always be his insatiable little brat. 

By your fourth orgasm, you weren’t sure if you could even feel your clit anymore. Your vision began to blur and you were lightheaded, your breathing slowing down as your eyes rolled back into your head. Spencer had to hold you down after the third climax and the fourth was brought upon you with a mixture of the vibrator and Spencer’s expert mouth on you. You relished the feeling of his hands massaging your thighs, slightly ticklish when his facial stubble would brush against your skin. 

“Show me you’ll behave. Are you sorry for the way you acted?”

You slowly opened your eyes and met his gaze. The buzzing of the wand echoed through the room. 

You nodded weakly, your head lolling side to side.

_Could you make it to five?_

You tapped the headboard twice. 

Immediately, the strength of the vibration on your clit had dulled down. Spencer reached his free hand to your lips, carefully removing the wad of panties from your mouth, a line of saliva trailing down your chin. Your jaw was incredibly sore and you swallowed. You met him a look. 

“You may speak freely.”

“I...i’m sorry. I…” 

“Hm? What is it?”

“I’m-I…”

There it was. 

Number five.

“Oh god, Spencer.” You whimpered, your eyes locked on him. His expression softened for only a moment, before being replaced by a look of wickedness.

He was an addict, and your pleasure was his drug of choice.

He licked his lips, tilting his head back as he thumbed a button on the wand, dialing the intensity to its highest setting, sending you overboard. 

“Five.” 

It ripped through you like fire, shocking every nerve in your body as you came for the final time. You were a trembling, exhausted, dripping wet hot mess. You went from shouting profanities to blubbering nonsense as you rode out the feeling, your core pulsating for what seemed like an eternity. You bit your lip, attempting to stifle your cries as your voice grew hoarse. You heard the sound of a _click_ as Spencer shut the vibrator off, placing it on the floor next to the bed. He reached for your wrists, untying you carefully. 

“Lower your arms slowly. They will be sore.”

You listened, breathing in and out deeply as you brought your hands down from the headboard, wincing when you felt the ache in your forearms. You blinked rapidly, adjusting your vision to the room's light. The heat between your legs had yet to subside and you could swear your clit had its own heartbeat. You hadn’t noticed Spencer leave the room and return with a glass of water and a small pill. You sat up as best as you could. 

“For the soreness. Open.”

You obliged and he placed the pill on your tongue, lifting the glass to your lips. Your eyes flickered up to his.

“Drink. It’s okay.”

You gulped down the water hurriedly. You were so thirsty. Spencer held his hand under your chin, catching any droplets that had escaped and dribbled down your chin. When you were finished, he swiped his thumb across your lips. Leaning in, he brushed a soft kiss against your forehead, cupping your face tenderly. 

“Have you learned your lesson?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded. 

“Yes.”

“Does this mean you’ll behave from now on?”

You pursed your lips, furrowing your brows as if you were contemplating. 

“Nope.” You laughed. “But I promise to be good _for now_.”

He mirrored your smirk.

“For now is good enough for me.”

He kissed you tenderly, pulling back to undo his tie from his neck. 

“Time for bed?” You teased, finding a comfortable position between the sheets. 

“Depends. Can you handle one more?”

“Not if you’re using that thing.” You gestured to the vibrator on the floor. 

“You’ve had enough of that.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and you got a nice, full view of Dr. Spencer Reid. 

“I think we can arrange something, doctor.” You giggled as he joined you in the bed, your fingers entangling in his hair as you urged your mouth up to meet his. When he finally entered you for the first time that night, you sighed, content. 

Sometimes there were perks to misbehaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BDSM should always be safe, sane and consensual. 
> 
> Brats are, in essence, naughty submissives. They find disobedience a form of playfulness rather than letting their dominant down, and require a compatible dominant who will not only teach them a lesson, but also accept that any number of lessons might still not necessarily change this behavior.


	2. I ___ You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that's mostly smut, but this story will have a plot, I promise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will sometimes jump around instead of going in order. The next chapter will show how you and Spencer met, so stay tuned for that x

_PRESENT DAY - OCTOBER_

* * *

With a work deadline quickly approaching and three cups of strong coffee in your system, you finally decided to plop your butt down at your breakfast bar and start typing. 

It was impressive in itself when you managed to land a job at The Washington Post, so you strived to uphold their reputation by being the best theatre critic you could be, which unfortunately meant _not_ procrastinating on your reviews and meeting every deadline. You managed to get most of your work done, at times becoming distracted with sudden thoughts of _him._

Lifting your hand to your neck, you reacquainted yourself with the feel of your collar. It was a gift from Spencer, your dominant, a subtle black choker made with thin straps of velvet interwoven with a silver O ring resting at the base of your throat. It was beautiful and very discreet, serving as a constant reminder of your 'relationship', and of course, his devotion to you. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your phone signaling an incoming text message. 

**Spencer Reid:** Hi.

You sat up in your chair, butterflies instantly erupting in your stomach at the sight of his name on the screen. 

**You:** Hi. On your way home?

 **Spencer Reid:** Nearly. Should be getting on the jet any minute now. 

**Spencer Reid:** I’d like a home cooked meal at my apartment tonight. 

**You:** Done. Any requests?

 **Spencer Reid:** Meat and potatoes will do.

 **Spencer Reid:** Please wear the outfit I bought for you.

You stared at your cell in confusion. _Outfit?_

Spencer had gifted you a collar and paid for many other things like dinners, outings and even lingerie, but you couldn’t recall a time where he had purchased any actual clothing for you. You were about to ask for clarifications when, as if on cue, there was a knock at your door. 

Okay...so that was a tad bit creepy. 

You rose from your seat and scampered towards the door, glancing through the peephole before you opened it to greet the delivery person. They confirmed your name and handed you a fairly large sized package, which you signed for on their handheld device. Using your foot to shut the door behind you, you inspected the box. It wasn’t heavy but it had some weight to it and you used a pair of kitchen scissors to cut through the seal at the top. 

You had a pinch of anxiety at the possibility of hating the outfit he chose or having it not fit properly, even though Spencer knew your exact measurements from head to toe. You tried not to doubt his taste in fashion, especially since he had previously gifted you some of the most beautiful lingerie you had ever seen. You were immediately reassured when you finally unboxed the clothing, pulling out a very pretty, and according to the tag, very _pricey_ silk slip dress. 

“Holy shit.” You mumbled to no one in particular. 

Placing the dress on your bed, you retrieved your cell phone from the other room just as it chimed again. 

**Spencer Reid:** Nothing underneath the dress, please and thank you.

 **Spencer Reid:** Barefoot is fine.

You smiled and typed your reply.

**You:** It just got delivered. It’s beautiful.

 **You:** Thank you, sir.

 **Spencer Reid:** Pleasures mine. 

**Spencer Reid:** I can’t wait to see you.   
  


Your stomach did a 360 flip. You couldn’t wait to see him either, and you were excited to wear your pretty new dress for him. 

You touched your collar again and smiled. 

* * *

You had just finished setting the table in Spencer’s apartment when you heard the familiar sound of jingling keys. You quickly adjusted a piece of slanted cutlery and scurried to your place a few feet from the door.  
You knew what Spencer would be looking for; you, standing still at attention, head up, hands together in front of you, ready to accept any order. You recalled a time at the beginning of your relationship when you had attempted to take his overnight bag and coat from him and were met with resistance. 

_“No. That, I’ll do myself, always. You are my equal.”_

Unlike many dominant/submissive relationships, Spencer preferred to be greeted by his sub with eye contact rather than a bowed head. You never asked him why but if you did, he would tell you that seeing your face when he arrived home brought him some semblance of peace in his life. 

You immediately noticed the bags under his eyes and that his hair was more disheveled than usual, but he still looked sexier than ever. He set his bag down by his feet and shut the door behind him, locking it. He then removed his shoes and hung his jacket up before facing you. You could barely hold back your excitement much longer.

He beckoned you with his fingers and you shuffled over until you were standing in front of him, your chests almost touching. He brought his hands up to cup your face tenderly, forcing your head back to get a better look at you. 

“I missed you, baby.”

You practically melted at the pet name. It was the first time he had used it on you, and it felt so right. 

“I missed you too.” You bit your lip giddily. You raised your arms and rested your hands on his chest, playing with his shirt collar. 

“You look breathtaking.” He said. 

The silk dress was a perfect fit, flattering your body and accentuating all the right places, although you would admit it did feel strange wearing it with nothing underneath. 

“How was the case?” You asked. 

“Difficult.” He sighed, attempting not to sound too solemn. 

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. You knew that you’d never truly understand the toll his job took on him, but you would always try your best to be there for him. It had only been a few days since you saw Spencer last, but you had missed him all the same. Time apart became more and more difficult with each case. 

He kissed you deeply, stroking the pad of his thumb against your cheek as he breathed you in. You wondered if he noticed that you were wearing his favorite scent, a slightly sweet perfume with undertones of bergamot and lavender. After a long moment, you broke the kiss to catch your breath. 

“Hungry?” You panted, fingers tightly gripping onto his collar. You weren’t talking about the food. 

“Starving.” He whispered back. “But I’d like some dinner first.” 

He let you go, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt as he took his place at the table. You returned from the kitchen with two plates, setting down his first and then yours. You stood behind the chair to his left side, waiting. 

“You may sit.” He told you, picking up his fork and knife as you took your seat next to him. You watched him cut through the meat and try a piece, giving a small sigh of satisfaction as he chewed and swallowed. 

“It’s delicious.” He smiled. “Eat. Please.” 

You took your first bite, mimicking Spencer’s sigh. The radio played softly from the kitchen as you both ate in silence. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you finished your dinner quicker than you expected. You nursed a glass of wine as you watched Spencer eat, his eyes on you throughout most of the meal. He finished with a final bite of fingerling potato, placed the fork on his plate diagonally, and crossed it with his knife. He took a long sip of his wine. You suddenly realized you hadn’t prepared any dessert and silently cursed at yourself for letting it slip your mind. 

“Clear the table. Then come back and take a seat here on the table facing me, thighs apart.” He gestured to the placemat in front of him. You paused for a moment in confusion, and then it hit you all at once. 

_You_ were the dessert. 

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as red hot blush instantly painted your cheeks. 

You pushed your chair away from the table and took both your empty plates, carrying them to the sink. You finished clearing the table in a matter of a few minutes, then you returned and gingerly sat on the wooden table, your lap now in front of Spencer’s face. He helped you adjust, using his hands to pull your butt closer to the edge, separating your legs so they were now on either side of him. He glanced up at you. 

“Safe word?” 

You gulped. 

“Blue.”

“Good girl.” 

You let out a gasp as he suddenly reached under your dress, palming you. You were already wet and eagerly arching your hips in response to Spencer’s touch. 

“Have you been soaked like this all evening?” He could barely hide the amusement in his voice, stroking you with his fingers. 

“Yes.” You breathed, nodding. “Since you entered the apartment.” You bit your lip to keep from giggling at your embarrassing little secret. 

Pulling up the skirt of your dress to reveal your nakedness, Spencer began by placing small, delicate kisses on your inner thighs. You shivered, leaning back on your palms as you parted your legs even more for him. He spread your lips gently with his fingers before running his tongue along your clit. He knew exactly what to do to bring you to climax, suckling and moving his tongue in circles over one specific sweet spot you had. 

“Oh fuck.” You cried out, curling your toes and tensing your body as Spencer picked up his rhythm. 

You quivered at the sensation of his nails raking your skin as he held the outside of your thighs firmly. You moved the hem of your dress up so you could watch him at work, your free hand entangled in his hair as you struggled to keep yourself sitting up. 

“Oh my god…” you mewled, tossing your head back. “right there, Spencer, don’t stop.” 

He pushed two fingers into you, his mouth savouring your sweet taste. His fingers moved in a ‘come hither’ motion, stimulating your g-spot as he sucked harder. Your climax was going to hit you like a train, you could feel it, and your body began to tense up as you edged closer and closer. You shut your eyes.

_Almost._

_Fuck._

_Please._

_Yes._

_Right there-_

Spencer withdrew his fingers and mouth from you suddenly, rising from his chair as his hands flew to his belt. Your eyes shot open, your brain barely registering his movements as he pulled down his zipper, freed his erection and pushed his cock into you at record speed. You gasped, grabbing onto his forearms for stability. You attempted to speak but failed miserably, moaning incoherently as he fucked you on the dining table. You dug your nails into his arms, holding on for dear life as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, barreling once again towards your orgasm. You watched the look on his face soften, his dominant persona slipping away briefly as his cheeks filled with a rosy red blush. He suddenly seemed...gentle. 

“All I think about is you. On the jet today I... could only think about this. I need you.” 

You nodded, not able to form a reply as the wave of pleasure in you kept rising and rising, almost reaching its peak. 

You stopped breathing, your back arching and your thighs shaking as it suddenly came crashing down, your orgasm overtaking you. Spencer watched you in awe, your body trembling as you came, your walls tightening violently around his cock and bringing him close to his own climax. You pulled yourself up so your chest was touching his, kissing him to stifle your loud moans. You felt Spencer tense suddenly, deepening the kiss as he came inside of you. 

“Fuck.” He muttered against your lips, his thrusts becoming sloppy and slowing to a full stop.

You pulled away slightly to look at him, watching a wave of emotion flood Spencer’s face. You couldn’t decipher exactly what he was feeling and it confused you. He parted his lips again as if to speak, but didn’t say a word. You froze, an unfamiliar feeling washing over you. You hadn’t realized your head had dropped down until fingers pinched your chin, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you, his soft voice laced with concern.  
  


In this moment, you two were not just a dominant and his submissive. This feeling was something else, a whole new emotion. One past lust and possession. One past just sex and kinky dynamics. It was deeper and unconditional, but something held this feeling back, so instead you both said and did...nothing. Silence hung in the air between you for a very long time.

“I’m fine.” You replied. 

You were everything but that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BDSM should always be safe, sane & consensual.


	3. So We Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch & Reid investigate a series of murders that lead them to you.  
> This is how you meet Spencer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: This is purely a work of fiction and is dramatized for the purpose of storytelling. Submitting requires an enormous amount of trust and doesn't *usually* happen with strangers you've just met in non-kink circumstances. Please be aware of this. 
> 
> Shibari/Kinbaku are both forms of bondage
> 
> For more information: https://lovingbdsm.net/2018/07/11/different-types-of-submission/

_FOUR MONTHS EARLIER - JUNE_

* * *

It was a Wednesday just before 9 am when police found Ryan Katz dead in his apartment. 

Originally thought to be the unsub in the BAU's latest case with D.C police, Katz was murdered and posed with the same signature as the other victims; his body had been hogtied, his mouth gagged and his throat slit. Even though their supposed killer had ended up becoming the unsub's next victim, the BAU team did not allow themselves to feel discouraged as they continued to dig deeper into their investigation. They looked into Katz phone records for the next person in line for questioning and the last person to ever see him alive.

And that person just so happened to be you. 

Later that morning, Special Agents Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid entered the west tower of One Franklin Square in Washington, D.C, the headquarters of The Washington Post newspaper. Simultaneously flashing their FBI badges at security, Spencer didn’t slow his swift pace as he followed Hotch down the main corridor and into the nearest elevator going up. As soon as the doors opened on the 8th floor, the two agents were immediately greeted by a professional looking woman of middle age. Reid did a quick visual assessment: a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with a gold frame sat perched on the bridge of her nose, her thick black hair was carefully groomed and styled in a low ponytail, and her pantsuit held no creases nor a single trace of a stain. The woman cleared her throat.

“Agents. I'm Ama Williams, the arts editor here at Washington Post.” 

Hotch extended his hand. “Aaron Hotchner, we spoke briefly on the phone. This is Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

She shook hands with both men. 

“Cherokee?” Spencer asked, pointing to the beadwork on Ama’s bracelet. 

“Yes. I am.” She replied, genuinely surprised by his knowledge. “On my mother’s side.”

“Ama is the Cherokee word for Water. _Ama Gvnida,_ when translated, means Water is Life.” Spencer explained in his typical matter of fact fashion. Hotch cut in before Spencer could go off on a tangent. 

“Ms. Williams, as I mentioned on the phone this morning, we are conducting an investigation and would really appreciate it if we could speak to one of your writers."

Ama’s eyes widened at the sound of your name leaving Hotch’s lips.

“Has she done something wrong?” Ama asked. 

Spencer tilted his head in her direction. “We just have a few questions for her. Standard procedure. It shouldn’t take long.” 

“Well that’s good.” Ama sighed. “I’m hoping I won’t need to replace her anytime soon. She’s the youngest staff writer and theatre critic we’ve ever employed here at the Post...but she’s quite sharp, and she came very highly recommended.”

“Could you please take us to her?” Hotch asked. 

Before Spencer could register that someone had collided into his back, you had already made your presence known to the group the second you stepped off the elevator when you cursed out loud as you bumped into him haphazardly. Spencer turned and instinctively reached out to steady you as you stumbled from the impact, letting out a small yelp as boiling hot coffee sloshed over the rim of your cup and poured over your hand. 

“Oh for fucks sake.” You muttered, irritated as ever, switching the mug between hands and shaking the hot liquid off your now reddened fingers. It wasn’t until you looked up at the stranger in front of you that your annoyance suddenly vanished.

A tall, rangy young man with shaggy brown hair and large hazel eyes looked back at you, his hands still rested on your forearms. You paused with parted lips as if to speak but you said nothing. He was handsome, clearly enough to make you speechless, and despite the fact that you had crashed into him, he seemed more concerned about you than himself. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his brows furrowed. Again, you were at a loss for words. Your head snapped up at Ama as soon as she said your name. She didn’t seem very pleased. 

“These are agents from the FBI. They're here because they wanted to speak with you this morning.” Ama informed you, her jaw tense.

_FBI?!_ The voice in your head squeaked. You hadn't done anything wrong, but it didn't help that your intrusive thoughts suddenly began picturing random crimes you had never committed.

“Right. Of course.” You finally said, nodding. The agent you ran into finally let go of your arms, a timid smile on his face. 

The other one, an older man with dark features who looked much more serious and strait-laced took a step forward. 

“I'm Special Agent Hotchner and this is Dr. Reid.” 

Ama cleared her throat. “You can use my office for some privacy.” She pointed towards the large glass office on the opposite end of the bullpen. 

You followed Hotch and Reid across the room, trying to pretend you didn’t see all of your co-workers gawking at you. Once inside the office, you took a seat in the nearest chair, placing your coffee on the table to your left. Hotch shut the door behind him and was the first to break the silence. 

“We were wondering if you could answer a few questions for us about Ryan Katz.” 

The bottom of your stomach dropped. "Is he...alright?"

"They found him dead in his apartment this morning."

Spencer watched your reaction. Genuine shock, fear, and incoherence washing over your features in waves. You stammered, attempting to speak, your head shaking no. 

"I don't understand." You managed to breathe out, your eyes darting between Hotch and Reid. 

"You were the last person who saw Ryan Katz alive." Hotch pressed further and you suddenly stood up, unable to sit still.

"I'm sorry but... I don't know who could have done something like that." Your mind began racing. You felt sick to your stomach. 

“You had dinner with Ryan last night.” Hotch said. 

You nodded. “Yes, I did." 

“ _Just_ dinner?” 

You raised a brow. “Pardon me?”

Reid cleared his throat. “We just need to know more about your relationship with Mr. Katz, details of your conversation last night, etcetera." 

"Hardly a relationship." You scoffed. Spencer immediately noticed the animosity in your voice. Your demeanour had visibly shifted, but he still wasn't convinced that you had anything to do with Katz' murder. 

Hotch's expression hardened. "Is there something you're not telling us?" 

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Agent Hotchner, if you were implying that I slept with Mr. Katz, the answer is no. I barely knew him. We met for the first time yesterday.” The next part flew out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Besides, I left the restaurant halfway through dinner.“ 

“Why?” 

You paused, hesitating a moment too long. 

_Shit._

Hotch’s tone was ice cold when he said your name, recapturing your attention. “We need to know everything. With specifics.” 

You swallowed uneasily. 

Why did you suddenly feel so embarrassed? Having kinks was not something you were ever ashamed of before and your sexual preferences certainly weren’t illegal- although now that you were standing in front of two federal agents being questioned, it sure felt like they were. 

Spencer observed as you lifted your hand to your throat. It was as if you were searching for a necklace to play with, but around your neck was no such thing. He recalled the crime scene in his mind; erotic fiction on the shelves in Ryan's office, violent pornography on his computer, and intricate knots in the rope used to tie the victims up before they were killed. The knots were specific, similar to the patterns one would tie when performing Kinbaku...a style of bondage.

Ever so subtly, Spencer reached into his right pocket and felt for his pen, then slowly he pulled it out and dropped it, letting it fall and land on the floor, right between the two of you. 

Without a beat, you instantly knelt.

It was a trained instinct. An action you didn’t second guess. Your body was moving before you could stop yourself, down on your knees as you picked up the pen for him. You tensed when you realized what he had purposely done. He then crouched down opposite you, his face inches from yours. You weren’t sure what to do, so you waited. 

“Look at me.” Spencer said softly, but firmly.

You did as you were told. 

You were met with a look of reverence for your action. You half expected him to look disgusted or even smug because he had cracked you, but there was none of that. Spencer knew the real reason you were at that dinner now. He whispered his next question so only you could hear it.

“How long have you been a submissive?”

You could practically feel the heat radiating off your face, your cheeks instantly flushed. You figured it was best at this point to be honest.

“Five years, on and off.” You answered quietly. 

He nodded as if he understood completely. 

“Could I ask you a few questions privately? Just you and me. Is that alright with you?” 

His voice was tender now, patient, as if he had all the time in the world for you. You nodded in agreement. Standing up, Spencer extended his hand to help you to your feet, glancing over at Hotch and exchanging a silent correspondence. Hotch, who seemed slightly confused, gave a tiny nod and exited the room, dialing on his cell as he disappeared around the corner. You swallowed, realizing Spencer still had your hand in his. You finally introduced yourself properly, giving him your name. 

"I'm Spencer." He mirrored your smile and let go of you. “At dinner, you were discussing a possible...arrangement with Mr. Katz, correct?” He asked, choosing his words carefully. 

“Yes. I met him earlier that day in a bookshop. We were both glancing at the same book on Shibari and we briefly got to talking about kink. He asked me to dinner that night." You took a breath, gathering your thoughts. "He expressed that he was a dominant looking for a submissive and asked if I was interested. Honestly, I didn’t think we connected in that way at all, so…” you trailed off. 

“You left.” Spencer nodded, finishing your sentence.

“I left because I got a bad gut feeling. He turned out to be your typical douchebag alpha male using kink to conceal his true intentions. He just wanted someone to control and abuse.” 

Reid frowned slightly. “It's good you managed to get out of that." 

You sighed. “Agreed.”

“Did you discuss anything personal? Places he frequents, other submissives he might be seeing?” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking. 

“He did mention some club.” You shut your eyes and replayed the entirety of the evening in your head. Then you remembered. 

“Clovers. It’s on Western Avenue I believe. It’s not a legitimate BDSM club so I’ve never attended, but he spoke about it briefly.” 

Reid nodded. From the corner of his eye he noticed Hotch return from his phone call, now watching the two of you through the glass. They looked at one another and Hotch motioned his head ever so slightly towards the elevators. 

Spencer turned back to you, reaching into his vest pocket and providing a card. You took it. 

“In case you remember any other details. Thank you for your help. It was nice to meet you.” He shoved his hands back into pockets, heading towards the door. 

“Dr. Reid.” You called out, stopping him. 

You weren’t sure where you got the audacity to ask the next question, but it was out before you could take it back. 

“How long have you been a dominant?” 

It startled you as much as it did him. 

“I’m sorry?” 

You waited for his answer, not budging. Reid shook his head, eyebrows furrowing.

“Uhm...I…I’m not a...” His eyes darted around the floor as if he was searching for something on the carpet. 

You had thrown him off. 

And that had immediately turned you on. 

You relished in the sudden surge of confidence, your shoulder brushing against Spencer's as you walked towards the door. You opened it and stopped, turning your head ever so slightly to call over your shoulder.

“When you feel like answering my question…” you sensed him look up at you. “You know how to find me, doctor.” 

And with that, you left the room. 


	4. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback, a few days after you meet Spencer he shows up at your apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the timeline is ever unclear, please make it known to me and it shall be fixed as best as possible x Our relationship begins in June and goes until present day in October (where we began in the first chapter)

_JUNE_

* * *

_“You know how to find me, doctor.”_

And find you he did. Exactly four days, nine hours and twenty three minutes since the moment you had first met. (Not that he was counting..)

The sound of knocking on your apartment door had startled you, seeing as you were all alone and not expecting any company on a Sunday evening. You shut the television off and rose from your couch, walking cautiously towards the door as you tried your best not to step on any creaks in the hardwood, worrying it might give away your presence to the stranger on the other side. You got on your tippy toes to check the peephole, a gasp caught in your throat when you recognized the person on the opposite end. 

Dr. Reid. 

_Holy shit._

With a deep breath, you removed the safety latch and unlocked the door, slowly opening it. Spencer’s face instantly brightened at the sight of you. 

“Hi.” He said, a gentle smile on his lips. You immediately noticed the stubble on his face that hadn’t been present when you met him on Wednesday. It was incredibly sexy.

“You found me.” You mimicked his expression, leaning against your door frame. 

“I did. It helps to work for the FBI.” He remarked half-jokingly. “I’m sorry to intrude so late in the day.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “Did you come all this way to answer my question?”

Spencer pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. “Actually, I don’t live very far from here. But yes, I did come to answer your question.”

You had hoped he would. Despite being practically strangers, you had felt something the day you had met him, something foreign. You couldn’t describe it, but you knew that your body wanted another fix of whatever that feeling was. 

“Would you like to come in?” You asked.

He answered your question with another question. 

“Would that be alright?” 

“Of course.” You breathed, stepping aside to allow him entrance. You shut the door behind you when he was in the apartment and bee-lined it to your refrigerator.

“Red or white?” You called from the kitchen, eyeing a bottle of pinot blanc you had been planning to open that evening anyway. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” He said, his gaze bouncing around the apartment. 

He had removed his shoes by the door and tentatively stepped further in as he observed the furnishing and decor. It was very clean and definitely more organized than his, granted that you didn’t have piles of paperwork and case files scattered all throughout your living space. Spencer was particularly interested in your bookshelf, admiring your choices of literature and noting that most of the books had their spines cracked, indicating they had been read. His back was to you when you entered, your eyes immediately shifting to the mismatched socks he donned on his feet. A blue one on his left and a yellow on his right. He spun around at the sound of your laugh. 

“I like the socks. They’re awesome.” You grinned, handing him his glass of wine and placing the bottle on your coffee table. 

“Thank you. For the wine. And for the compliment.”

You lifted your glass, and he clinked his against it. 

“Salute.” You toasted and took a sip, peering at Spencer while you did.

“You speak Italian?” He asked as he followed your movements and took a seat on the couch near you, keeping an appropriate distance.

“Not even a wink of it.” You joked. 

You were surprised how effortless conversation flowed between as you chatted about your lives. You told him about your childhood growing up in Maryland, completing your college education in D.C and bouncing around newspapers before you landed your current job writing for The Post. He could tell it was a dream come true for you, and that made him smile. He spoke a little bit about his job at the FBI; how he held multiple degrees and became a profiler all before the age of 25. He briefly mentioned his IQ of 187 and that he had an eidetic memory, and you did your best not to show intimidation. You could only imagine the difficulties that came with being so intellectually advanced. You were positive he had struggled majorly in regards to it. He was different, and you knew that most people in this world did not embrace different. You wanted to make him feel special, but not solely for having a remarkable brain. You could tell he had deep compassion in his soul for humankind, and that had touched you. 

You realized a large chunk of time had passed when you began pouring your third glass of wine. Spencer was still nursing his first glass, placing it away from him on the table.

“So, Dr. Reid…”

He cut you off. “Spencer, please.” 

You smiled. “Spencer.” 

It was the first time he heard you utter his name. You spoke it like a prayer. He suddenly wanted to hear it spilling from your lips over and over again. He let out the breath he’d been holding. 

“I’ve never done this before.” He said quietly, as if to himself. 

You chewed your bottom lip and set your glass on the table. “What? Drank wine and talked?”

“No.” He cleared his throat, searching for his next words.

“I’ve never been someone’s dominant.”

_Oh._

Your heart began pounding frantically in your chest but you forced yourself to appear collected on the outside. You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t recall asking you to be my dominant.”

Spencer’s face fell, eyes widening in his head, panicked.

“No! No, of course not, what I meant was-”

The feeling of your hand suddenly resting on his had stopped him mid-sentence. 

“Spencer. It’s okay. I’m just teasing you.” 

There was a long pause and you worried you had made him uncomfortable. He was staring at the empty space between you and you could practically see the gears in his brain working overtime to turn.The silence was deafening. He kept his gaze low when he finally spoke. 

“I just know that I want it. I have for a while now. I like the way I feel when I have that control. I like that trust is the centerpiece of the dynamic between a dominant and submissive. I’ve never participated in any sort of kink-based relationship before, but…” 

He was still looking away from you, his head moving side to side slowly as if he were saying no. He continued. 

“I went to a fetish bar once. I didn’t engage in any of the acts. I just wanted to observe. I was curious. Some things I saw were not for my personal taste while others piqued my interest, but what really stuck with me was...a couple. They sat in a booth observing the crowd, just as I was, but there was this sort of... _intensity_ between them. I could feel it from across the room. The woman wore a collar. The man had his hand resting on the back of her neck, and hers was relaxed on his thigh. They didn’t let go of each other the whole time. And every time he looked at her…I haven’t seen devotion like that between two people since. That’s what I took with me when I left that night.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if he was debating his next choice of words. You realized your hand was still holding Spencer’s, but you didn’t let go. In fact, you gave him a little squeeze, but you weren’t sure if the physical reassurance was for him or for you. He exhaled.

“To this day, I haven’t forgotten about them. I never forgot the feeling, either. Until a few days ago...I felt it again.” 

He finally looked you in the eyes. 

“I felt it when I met _you._ ”

The air had grown thick and you dragged in a sharp breath, finding it increasingly hard to breathe suddenly. Something was happening, you thought, feeling as if Spencer had somehow put a match to your skin.

Fire, awareness, tension.

And the tension was growing thicker by the second. 

You tried to hide the intensity of your emotions and the effort fascinated him. He watched your calm demeanor crumble. Slack-jawed, chest rising and lowering with heavy exhales, lashes fluttering as you processed what he assumed to be arousal.

The atmosphere between the two of you was so palpable you swore you could physically touch it. He looked as if he was studying you, his brows slightly furrowed in thought. You bit your bottom lip.

“Do you trust me?” You asked. 

After a moment, he nodded. 

Before any hesitation could emerge, you leaned in and kissed him. His lips were softer than you imagined, his body receptive as he slid closer to you, his hands finding their place on either side of your face. Every kiss was sweeter than the last; his eagerness to taste you, breathe you in, feel you, had you leaning into him deeper and fervently. You ended up on his lap, slightly embarrassed at the thought of him feeling your wetness through your clothing. Any uneasiness you had though ceased when you felt him against your thigh. He was hard.

You pulled away from him to catch your breath, grinning when he did the same. He held your face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently against your now swollen bottom lip. You dropped your jaw slightly, inviting him in. Slowly, you took his thumb into your mouth and began sucking, your eyes locked with his. You swirled your tongue around it, watching a change happen in his face. He swallowed, his Adam's apple moving within his throat, his irises darkening to an even richer brown hue. His mouth dropped open slightly as you continued to fellate his thumb, the look on his face inciting another reaction in your body. The area between your thighs was now painfully aching. He pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth, his chin lifting. Your eyes widened at the subtle but clear switch in control. 

“Open.” He commanded, his tone low. 

You obliged and he pulled his thumb out, replacing it with his index and middle finger. You kept your gaze on him as he pushed deeper into your throat, breathing through your nose as he fucked your mouth with his fingers. You did your best not to gag, your eyes watering as he continued the assault on your throat, slowly bringing his fingers in and out of your mouth as if he imagined it to be something else. You were almost positive he’d have a wet spot on his lap courtesy of your arousal. God, you wanted him so fucking badly. 

“You’re so receptive to me, aren’t you?” He whispered, sounding slightly smug. 

Despite the amount of knowledge he had retained throughout his life and his vast understanding of human biology, Spencer could not, for the life of him, formulate a sentence that would best describe what was going on inside of him. You unleashed a completely different side to him. 

He felt powerful. Feverish. Impassioned. 

Spencer withdrew his fingers and gripped your jaw firmly, bringing your face to his and engulfing your mouth once more with a hard and possessive kiss. Your fingers, entangled in his brown locks, traveled from the nape of his neck to the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it impatiently. 

“Wait.” He muttered, breathing hard. “Wait, wait.”

“Are you alright?” You were panting too, your palms on his chest. His heart was smashing against his ribcage and you could feel it. It was comforting knowing he was just as nervous as you were. 

“I’m fine. I just wanted...maybe we should wait. Just a bit. I want you, believe me. I just want to take you somewhere first. We can talk more about this, discuss boundaries, hard limits, that sort of thing.”

You nodded, understanding completely. “I agree. As much as I want you too, you’re right.” 

Carefully, you slid off his lap, silently thanking the gods when you didn't spot any wet patches left on his pants from your eagerness. You both took a beat to collect yourselves before Spencer rose from the couch and headed towards the door. You followed behind, your feet pitter-pattering on the hardwood as you walked. He turned to you.

“I’ll arrange something for this week. Is that alright?”

You nodded again, nibbling on your bottom lip. Lifting yourself onto your tiptoes, you leaned in until your lips were only an inch or two away from his. “You know how to find me, _sir_.”

Your heart swelled at his smile. It was definitely something you could get used to. He planted one last kiss on your lips. 

“I certainly do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BDSM should always be safe, sane & consensual


End file.
